Once Upon A Time
by NaijaChiqa
Summary: Alternate Universe. Fluff piece. Seth writes a story...


I don't own _the O.C._

A/N: This is one of those pointless stories I like to write from time to time. Is it a story? Who knows? It's inspired by a thread on TWoP.

Genre: AU. You'll see why that is by the end of the story.  
  
Summary: Seth writes a story.  
---  
  
_She saw him from afar. He was tall, dark and angry as hell. They were surrounded by the roaring hills covered in flakes so fresh, you could almost smell the Tide, and at that moment, she felt like they were the only two people on the planet.  
  
She waved at the Eskimo as she stomped through the wet snow, trying her best to ignore the cold moisture that had long since seeped through her jeans -it served her right for trying to scale the Himalayas. He turned around and stared at her with those jade green eyes. She wondered --  
  
_  
  
The most recent Britney Spears song permeated his thoughts. Shit. Damn that Summer! There she went again, messing with his ring tone. He was grateful that he discovered her prank in the privacy of his own room unlike the last time old school Backstreet Boys had blared in English class.  
  
"Hey, have you changed your mind about coming over?" his girlfriend cooed.  
  
"No. I told you I have to get this done, otherwise, Benton will have my ass for lunch."  
  
"I know, but it isn't due till next week. Gosh, don't be such a geek and just come over. It's almost 1am and I'm so bored I can't sleep."  
  
"Imagine how boring it'll be when I get kicked out for flunking," he pointed out.  
  
She harrumphed. "Okay, be that way," she yelled before hanging up.  
  
He quickly called her back so they could exchange their I-love-yous, then went back to his work. After re-reading the first few paragraphs of his epic story, he selected all the text and deleted. What the hell? The stupid thing didn't even make sense. If he was afar, how could she tell the color of his eyes? Why the hell would anyone climb a mountain in jeans and frankly speaking he wasn't sure there were Eskimos in the Himalayas. And why the hell did a journalism major need to take a fucking creative writing class?  
  
He put his fingers on the keyboard and went back to work.  
  
_He sure wasn't liking the new job too much. Why da fuck did he have to pick the muthafucking short straw this time around? It couldn't take too long 'cos his ho be waiting for him. She had talked about getting her new lingerie from the swap-meet and he was feenin' to tap dat ass.  
  
"Yo, your piece ain't loaded. Jimmy don't want no fuck-ups this time around," Trevor warned.  
  
Dre cursed under his breath. Why did he gat to be paired with that loser? He was sure that drier than some blazing weed, he weighed at least 450lbs and if they had to run from the po-po, how was he going to make it? He --  
_  
  
"He," Seth whispered. "He what? He pulled a knife and killed his pahdner? Am I even allowed to spell it that way?"  
  
He went through his story hoping to get some ideas but instead, he just noticed it didn't seem _right_. Something was seriously off.  
  
"Yo, Ryan," he called.  
  
He groaned. "What Seth? I'm trying to sleep - I've got work first thing in the morning."  
  
"Relax, it won't take long. I'm just trying to check the authenticity of the language I'm using here. Does this sound ghettofied?" He read the dialogue to him. "So, what do you think?"  
  
"How the hell am I supposed to know?" His voice was muffled by the pillow.  
  
"Uhm... didn't you live in Chino?"  
  
"And so?" Ryan lifted his head and glared at him.  
  
"So... you know..."  
  
"So I know what? Is that how I speak? Shut up, Seth. Instead of trying to be all ghettofied or whatever you call it, try writing something you know. And just so you know, your typing is keeping me up."  
  
"Slow down, bro." Ryan was always a pain when he was groggy and tired. Sometimes the dude acted like his sleep was more valuable than _Fantastic Four #1_. Whatever. "I don't complain when you take up all the room with your 2-by-4 or whatever you want to call it, staying up all night drawing your bridges and buildings."  
  
"Pencil on paper isn't noisy. But I need to sleep, so hurry up already!"  
  
Seth rolled his eyes. How did Ryan manage to be both annoying AND right? Just like his professor had advised, he really ought to write about stuff he knew. Only if he knew what _that_ was... Once again, he selected the text and deleted it.  
  
_She was petite and thin - the kind of girl most guys just wanted to scoop up and fiddle with. Her cherubic face was capped with long, wavy, black hair. She scrunched her gently sloping nose as she walked with her usual gang of popular girls - the ones geeks like him couldn't even dream of touching. He tucked his book in his backpack and walked towards her; it was time for rejection # 103924.  
_  
  
Some time later, he stifled a yawn and as he glanced at his watch, he couldn't believe he'd spent over thirty minutes pretending to be that Sparks guy. Romance? Hell no. Once again, he selected the text and deleted it all.  
  
Tired and frustrated, he hit his head on his desk hoping it would give him ideas. Instead, it left him with what he was sure was the beginning of a killer headache. He got off the chair, walked to the fridge and grabbed a beer. Back at the blank screen, he popped open the can and gulped it all down; if it was going to be a long night, he might as well be relaxed.  
  
So he was supposed to write about his life. He could write about surfing but seriously, who would care? Or about his love affair with comic books or music. Except, although he wouldn't admit it, in college, he quite enjoyed _not_ being the 'emo-geek.' Then he racked his brain some more, sure he wouldn't find anything interesting but hoping that he'd at least find something significant. Finally, he looked over at his snoring friend and got it.  
  
Once he found his rhythm, his fingers jumped rapidly on the keyboard unable to keep up with the words flowing through his mind. He would have kept writing if the liquid in his eyes didn't insist on blurring his vision. Finally, at around 4am, he saved the file. It didn't take long for him to come up with a title, after all, could there be a more appropriate name for the fictional account of his life than _The Valley_?


End file.
